Heart to Heart
by Nifty Niffler
Summary: After the Final Battle, George isn't dealing well with Fred's death.  Harry decides to have a chat with him.  SONGFIC to Lady of the Valley by White Lion


_**Lady of the valley  
>Can you hear me cry<br>In the stillness of the night  
>I have lost my brother<br>In the fights of the war  
>And my heart has broken down <strong>_

_**In the night I cry but no one seems to hear  
>I step into the light but all I feel is fear <strong>_

George watched as the casket containing his brother, his twin, his life-long companion slowly lowered into the hole. He wanted to beg his brother to jump out of that box and say it had been an elaborate hoax. He wanted to yell and scream that it wasn't possible for Fred to be gone, that he was much too young to die. Instead, he stood amongst the family gathered and stared, not looking at anything but his disappearing brother, not speaking, his face a solemn mask.

He watched as his mother and father tossed a handful of dirt into the grave. Each sibling took a turn. Harry and Hermione took a turn. It was George's turn but he just couldn't force himself to do it. It would have meant admitting Fred was gone, never to return. He stepped back from the grave, his head shaking in denial, teeth clenched.

Everyone glanced at him with varying degrees of pity in their eyes but George didn't care. He turned away from the gaping hole that had swallowed his brother and walked back to the Burrow, shoulders hunched. He heard his mother's anguished cries as he walked away, could hear the subdued sniffles from others. He didn't look up; he didn't want to know.

Finally, George reached the safety of his room, the same one he'd shared with Fred his entire life. Collapsing onto his bed, he sat and stared at the identical bed across the room. Despair rose up, threatening to crush his chest but he forcefully shoved it back down into that black pit currently holding his heart, his emotions. Numbly, he sat there, not caring that some had come knocking on his door, not caring that one or two had actually opened his door and spoken to him. Fred was gone. The one person who knew him better than he knew himself. What was there to care about?

Eventually exhaustion grabbed him and he toppled over onto his side, pulling his legs up, and lay in a fetal positon. The room darkened as the sun sank below the horizon, bringing an end to the worst day of George's life. The very idea of time still marching on brought tears to George's eyes. It was unthinkable. Time no longer marched for Fred. Rolling onto his stomach, George buried his face into his pillow and released the tears he'd been holding back all day. Sleep overtook him but it didn't stop the tears.

The next thing George was conscious of was the morning light shining through the window. He rolled over, a smile on his face, to make some witty comment to Fred. Seeing the empty bed, the smile slipped away and his jaw clenched, his stomach twisted. He was alone. For the first time in his life, he didn't have his brother at his side. What was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to act? He didn't know how to be _one_. His heart began to race as he started to panic. What if he forgot the sound of Fred's voice? What if he forgot Fred's paricular style of humor since it was occasionally different from his own? What if he forgot Fred's brilliance?

_**Lady of the valley  
>Can you bring him back<br>To the days when we were kids  
>Once we were together<br>We stood young and strong  
>now it seems so long ago <strong>_

Of their own volition, memories came flooding back of some of their best practical jokes, things they'd done before they'd even started at Hogwarts. He remembered Fred changing one of Ron's socks into a spider...while it was still on Ron's foot. The memory of bewitching Percy's Prefect badge to read Pinhead and then, later, Percy's Head Boy badge to read 'Humongous Bighead' and 'Bighead Boy' came to mind. George remembered what it was like to play Quidditch with Fred, to go to the Yule Ball alongside his brother, to taunt Umbridge and set off that portable swamp before the two of them flew right out of the castle. It worried George that he had to struggle to remember those moments. They seemed so vague now as if some great passage of time had taken place.

Fear of forgetting had George rushing around his room for ink, quill and parchment. At his desk, he furiously began writing down everything he could remember, every practical joke, every special moment. For hours, he sat, hunched over his list, writing more and more. He ignored anyone who came to the door, ignored all the soft pleading to join the family.

_**How it hurts oh lady free me from this pain  
>In the night I cry to the lady of the valley<br>Cause I'll die without the lady of the valley  
>In the night I call to the lady of the valley<br>On my knees I fall before the lady of the valley**_

The list became an obsession. George wouldn't eat, he barely slept. He insisted on writing down every little thing. Instead of feeling better, the list made him feel worse. Here was he and his constant companion's lives boiled down to a few columns. Anger spiked and he crumpled the parchment and threw it across the room. The next instant, he was crying, crawling on his hands and knees to the wadded up sheet, begging it to be intact. Gently, George straightened it out held it to his heart. It was all he had left of his brother.

"Please! I beg you! Take me with you! It hurts too much! You have to take me with you!"

Holding the parchment close, George rocked back and forth and begged for whatever deity would listen to reunite him with his brother.

_**He who bears all the pressure  
>Is the one to break the spell<br>I have brought my fallen brother  
>And I've laid him, yes I've laid him<br>At your feet**_

The following morning, George woke to the slight shaking of his shoulder. Opening his eyes, he saw Harry leaning over him. Glancing quickly around, he realized he was still on the floor in the same spot in which he'd recovered the thrown parchment. Silently, George stood and returned to his bed, hoping that, if he ignored the other in the room, he'd be left alone again. No such luck. Harry just followed, sat on the floor and leaned against George's bed. After awhile, the silence got to George.

"How?" he whispered in a strained voice. "How do I go on? Why do I get to go on living when he doesn't?"

"One day at a time," Harry quietly answered George's first question. "That's how. As to your other question, I've asked myself that many times."

"And?" George asked in a small voice, still not looking anywhere but straight ahead.

"And..." Harry shrugged. "I don't know. Sirius once told me that bad things happen to good people. The words of Professor Dumbledore keep coming back to me. He once told me that 'To the well organized mind, death is just the next great adventure'. I was talking to him in my third year about my Dad, how I missed him, and he said to me 'You think the dead we loved ever truly leave us? You think we don't recall them more clearly than ever in times of great trouble? Your father is alive in you, Harry, and shows himself plainly when you have need of him. '"

Harry turned and looked up at George, green eyes full of sympathy and understanding.

"I think Fred up to the challenge of the next great adventure. After all, he's got the Marauders to help him out."

That got a small smile out of George and, encouraged, continued.

"Fred hasn't completely gone, George. He never will be as long as we keep them alive in our hearts. Whenever you need him, just call out to him, talk to him and he'll let you know, in some way, that he's listening."

George nodded, tears coursing down his cheeks again. Harry ignored the tears and stood. He hesitated a second before deciding to go ahead.

"I'll leave you with one more thing Dumbledore once told me. It doesn't do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

Nodding once, Harry left the room.

Through the open door, George could hear the various sounds of a full house. Yes, he'd lost the brother with whom he shared a special connection but he still had four others down there, not to mention a sister, an entire family who needed him. Truth be told, George knew he needed them, too. Swiping at his tears, he took a few deep breaths and stood. Suddenly, a peace came over him. He could almost hear a voice in his head urging him on down the stairs, telling him things would be okay, that _he'd_ be okay. With small, hesitant steps, George crossed the room, a watery smile on his face. 


End file.
